


Fast Machine

by JoAsakura



Category: Cyborg009, Gatchaman
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-15
Updated: 2006-04-15
Packaged: 2017-10-03 05:28:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoAsakura/pseuds/JoAsakura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cyborg 009/Gatchaman II dare crossover, basically.  Race car drivers, spies, cyborgs- they have quite a bit in common.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fast Machine

It was supposed to have been easy.

The egyptian financier of the Africa 9000 had ties to Black Ghost, Doctor Gilmore said. Break into Fayoumi's office, look for evidence, get out. Hook up with the rest of the team.

Easy to sneak 002 in. It wasn't as if Jaime "Jet" Link wasn't one of the drivers anyways. But nowhere had anyone mentioned some asshole in a bird costume would be waiting for him in Fayoumi's office.

From behind the tinted visor, Jet saw the man's eyes widen slightly, then narrow. That suited 002 just fine. This trip had been too boring anyways.

A twitch of the jaw activated his accelerator. He couldn't maintain the speed as long as 009 could, but that hardly mattered, he thought. But the punch didn't connect, not correctly. Jet felt the momentary brush of the man's helmet against his fist but then nothing. Even at hyperspeed, his bird-suited opponent moved like black water, dancing away before turning Jet's speed against him.

The wall crumbled against Jet's impact and he spun, leaning against the shattered plaster, blinking in surprise. "Not too fucking bad, tweety." He grinned, wiping the back of his hand across his face. The greenish nanogel that comprised his blood smearing along his cheekbone.

"Fuck you." The bird-man said and Jet startled. He recognized that voice.

Blue eyes thinned to slits. "Asakura." The venom in his voice even startled Jet. He'd known there was something fishy about the driver from Japan.

The next few blows were glancing on both sides. Jet could tell the bird-man, Asakura, was trying to take his measure, and erratic bursts of hyperspeed were probably the only thing keeping him from beating the crap out of Jet. 002 was keenly aware he was outmatched in the department-of-fighting-skills. But when the opening presented itself, he knew it might be the only one he'd get.

The kick impacted with Asakura's chest hard enough to shatter concrete, flinging the bird-suited man across the room. But before Jet could congratulate himself, razor pain lanced through his hand and he looked, startled.

Gleaming feathers pinned his hand to Fayoumi's steel and granite desk.

"Goddamn Black Ghost!" Jet spat just as Asakura, clutching his chest, growled something about "Fucking Galactor"

The two of them stopped at that instant and stared at eachother.

"What?" They both asked.

Asakura approached him carefully, eyes locked with Jet's before he crouched down in front of him, black cloak pooling around him. "What did you say?"

"Goddamn. Black. Ghost." Jet said calmly. "Who the fuck is Galactor?"

Asakura was silent for a moment, he seemed to be looking at something that Jet couldn't see. (That visor. Probably HUDs in it) he thought.

Asakura leaned back on his heels. "You're one of the Black Ghost prototypes, aren't you, Link?" He yanked Jet's jacket up, gloved fingers running along Jet's hipbone.

Jet rolled his eyes. "Cookie for you, tweety. If you're looking for my serial number, i buffed it off." He tried to pull his hand free from the feathers. "Fuck."

"your motor control linkages." Asakura said. "they're aligned with human nerve clusters." He gave Jet a hard look, then pulled the feathers free. "I think we're looking for the same thing."

"Fayoumi." Jet hissed and tore off a piece of his scarf to wrap around the leaking green goo from his hand.

"Fayoumi. He's probably playing Black Ghost and Galactor against eachother for his weapons." Asakura straightened, and after a moment offered a hand to Jet. "Come on."

Jet took the hand and hoisted himself up. "Do you know what we're looking for?"

There was a curt nod of the bird-helmet and Asakura vaulted over the desk. "Yeah. " He started feeling around underneath the top. "Notice how this thing is like bomb-proof compared to the rest of the room?"

Jet nodded. "Yeah. It's hiding something, innit?"

"Yeah." Asakura's mouth thinned for a moment then broke into a faint smile. "There you are." There was a tiny click and a side panel slid open. "Bingo."

Jet knelt down and pulled out the contents. "old-fashioned. paperwork." he held up the folders. "I guess Fayoumi doesn't trust the paperless office." That made Asakura grin for a moment. "let's get out of here."

The grin faded as Jet scooped him up. "What the fuck, Link?"

Jet grinned at him. "I fly probably better than you do, tweety." He was hovering a few inches off the ground. "Why do you think they call me Jet?"

~~~~~~~

The roof of the Conrad Cairo hotel was high enough to allow some privacy. As soon as Jet got within about twenty feet of the roof, Asakura leapt off and landed lightly on his own. A moment later, the bird uniform had vanished, replaced by jeans and a t-shirt.

"That is a nice trick." Jet said, landing. "Gotta get me one of those."

"Whatever." The other man waved him off. "It was real fun, but I've got work to do."

"Wait." Jet grabbed Asakura's arm, knowing full well the potential danger in that.

Asakura twitched but didn't try to sever Jet's arm. Instead he just turned, eyes sharp and grey. "Let. Go."

"You knew what I am."

"I'm a secret agent, Link. I know all sorts of stuff." There was not a shred of humour in his voice.

"You're a cyborg, too." Jet felt immense satisfaction as the grey eyes widened. "Come on. I know how much force it takes to break a human bone. When I kicked you, all I felt was polysteel."

"Hmph." The other man stood there for a long, silent moment, then sagged faintly. "Yeah. Yeah, I am." He shook his arm free of Jet's grip and walked over to the roof railing, looking out over the dusty city below.

"How'd you know where my serial tag would be?" Jet asked. "Who..?"

"A guy named Raphael. He'd been part of the Black Ghost cybernetics programme before Galactor lured him away."

Joe turned away from the city. "He rebuilt me as some sort of fucked up penance for..."

"You died, didn't you. Not too long ago, either." Jet said.

Asakura nodded. "Yeah. Little over a year. I guess you can tell I'm a newer model?" A brief, bitter smirk  
accompanied his words.

Jet took a step closer. "Yeah. One of my teammates... 009... was the last prototype built in our series. I think you're running some of the stuff they worked out on him. Your skin, at least."

Asakura looked at his own arm for a second and sighed. "That was wierd. Been a while since anyone actually touched me."

"Your teammates...?"

"They don't know. Not really." He flexed his fingers. "I'm afraid i'd hurt them.. anyone.. I'm alot stronger than they are."

"You fully functional?"

"What?" He scowled at Jet. "What the fuck kind of question is THAT?"

"Don't be dense." Jet took another step forward. "Believe me. I know, ok? I know."

Asakura snorted. "Ok. Yeah. I am."

He didn't flinch when Jet leaned forward and their mouths brushed tenatively. Jet's undamage hand slid up through the other's hair and his lips curled into a smile. "Ports?"

"Mm-hm." Asakura's hands had slid up Jet's back to thread through his red hair. "You too. God." He pressed his cheek against Jet's. "Sometimes.. I forget that i can still feel stuff like this."

"I know." Jet rubbed against him. "It's easy to forget you're more than a machine." he murmured. "Let me show you something." He took his hand and guided Asakura's fingers along the nape of his neck. "Feel that?"

Asakura nodded without moving his head away from Jet's cheek. "Extendable?"

"Yeah, it's a male connector cord."

"Are you fucking serious?"

"Trust me, tweety."

Asakura snorted and gave the delicate connector a little tug. It spooled out of Jet's spinal sheath before the redhead took it from him, sliding it into the mating port on the back of Asakura's skull. They made a little hiss in unison as the connection clicked in.

"Int..interesting.."

Jet just grinned, hands sliding up under the other's t-shirt. "Just getting started." He paused as he pulled the shirt up. "Good christ, you've got a nice bod."

Asakura's mouth pressed against his. Not as warm as a human's, but enough. "Do you mean that in the tech sense, or are we talking aesthetics here?"

"Yes." Jet murmured as he slid down Asakura's chest, lips tracing the pattern of muscled abdomen, nuzzling the curve of hipbone. He hooked his fingers in faded denim loops and tugged the jeans down. "God, you're fucking gorgeous."

"Bet you say that to all cyborg ninjas you get into a fight with." Asakura whispered. "I can feel.. you touching me.. as if.."

"Yeah. Datalinks." Jet mouthed against a just-slightly too perfect cock. It was always the case with Black Ghost's designers. They were sex perverts, Jet was certain of. They'd cut corners all over the place if they could, but they'd always spend a ridiculous amount of time on the genitals. "It gets better, you know."

"Ffffuck. I'm sure." Asakura was pressed up against the railing, head rolling back. "Now. Come on..."

"Fast mover." Jet pulled him down to the roof's surface, hands running down the small of Asakura's back to slide his jeans down further.

"Fast enough to kick your ass in the race tomorrow." Asakura murmured into Jet's ear, pulling Jet's uniform off in rough movements.

"Big talk. Show me the money." Jet groaned as Asakura pushed into him. He could feel it, looping back between them. It was almost too good. "Fuck, tweety. Fucking A..." His fingers dug into Asakura's back, the synthetic skin more yielding than flesh.

Conversation stopped completely then, the two of them lost in the rythym repeating back and forth through the link. Jet wasn't sure if it was the ninja training or just an enviable amount of experience, but the guy knew how to move in him, knew just where the most sensitive spots were to scrape his teeth.

"Fuck. Fuck.." Jet whispered. "I don't even know your whole name, tweety. " He arched up as Asakura lifted Jet's hips up, driving in harder.

"It's Joe." and Jet wasn't sure if he heard it with his ears or the datalink.

"Fucking figures."

And the world went white-hot.

~~~~~~~

Jet blinked himself awake and groaned. Trying to move, he realised he was cuffed to the hotel's air conditioning ducts. Joe was gone. The files were gone. "Stupid, motherfu.." Jet muttered as the note pinned next to him by a feather shuriken caught his eye.

_"Link:_

_Not bad. See you at the finish line._

_-J"_

And Jet laughed. "Better believe it tweety."


End file.
